I’m Wondering About That Woman – Harpy Hybrid Review

The first time she saw them, rumpled, tear-stained, red eyes, swollen.
Starfish hands, hot, sticky. Did she find their mother’s hair, coiled and clinging to the back of a sweaty t-shirt?

The first time she saw them, the infant and his brother. Did she flush, burning when she heard that he could no longer cry from screaming? Did she find their mother’s hair, held captive in the adhesive of the disposable diaper? Does she tire?

Did she flush, burning when she heard that he could no longer cry from screaming? Dare she kiss the nape of his neck? Whisper, habibti? Does she tire? Does she have what she needs? A cup of hot sweet tea in the morning when they wake her before she’s ready?

Dare she kiss the nape of his neck? Does her hand brush the soft cheek?
I’m wondering about that woman. Does she have what she needs? Does she see the sun? I’m wondering about that woman. Does she look at these tiny boys and wonder about their mother?

I’m wondering about that woman.
Does she pull back her hair? Does she wear glasses that they reach for? How does she balance her own imprisonment with theirs? Does she beg, please return them, so she can be free of the weight of them?

Does she take out her earrings? Does she cut their hair? Fine curling locks falling to the floor like so many tears. Does she beg, please return them, so she can be free of the weight of them? This woman, what are her dreams for herself?

Does she cut their hair? Dress them for a day out, if there is a day out? How does she balance her own imprisonment with theirs? This woman, what are her dreams for herself? Does she see the sun? I’m wondering about that woman.

Does she wonder about that woman? Their mother.
Does she imagine the enormity of her agony? The hollowed out feeling in her chest cavity. Does she imagine this mother, childless, alone? Can she see this mother’s tears raking her cheeks, flaming with the salt, like the Dead Sea, excoriating?

Does she imagine the enormity of her agony? The stabbing cruelty of her loss? Does she wonder, can their mother even take a breath? Can she see this mother’s tears raking her cheeks, excoriating, buoying the pain to the surface? Does she wonder if they would know their mother, that other mother?

Does she wonder, can their mother even take a breath?
Would they cry if they saw her now, that husk of a mother? Does she wonder if they would know their mother, that other mother. Would they turn to her, this woman?

Would they cry if they saw her now, that husk of a mother? Does she wonder about that woman? Would they turn to her, this woman?
I’m wondering about that woman.

Rachel Lutwick-Deaner

Three Questions for Rachel Lutwick-Deaner

What inspired your choice of genre and/or form for "I'm Wondering About That Woman"?

Last summer I did a creative nonfiction workshop with Dinty Moore, and he had us read Brenda Miller's "Pantoum for 1979," and the piece expanded my ideas about what kind of envelopes you can use for CNF.

Can you walk us through your creative process for this work?

It was intimidating to use the pantoum. It felt like math to lay out the pattern, and it made me feel a bit panicky, but I powered through the first time around. When I saw it on the page, I could see how it's possible to ramp up the energy through repetition, and I was more free playing with the lines.

What is the significance of the work to you?

When I started writing the piece, the world thought that the Bibas children were still alive. It turns out that they weren't. But as a mother, as a human being, I couldn't stop thinking about who was taking care of these children. The longer I spent with the piece, the more I thought about all the children and parents who are separated through family separation, injustice, and war. It's the deepest pain I can think of.

Rachel Lutwick-Deaner enjoys a bookish life. She has earned degrees from Colgate University, North Carolina State University, and Queens University of Charlotte. Currently, Rachel teaches writing and literature at Grand Rapids Community College. Rachel’s recent publications can be found at Story Sanctum, Chaotic Merge, and Door=Jar. Rachel’s essay “Nursing Mother” was selected for the 2024 Story Sanctum Editors' Choice Award for Best Nonfiction. You can find her on Instagram @professor.ld.